The creatures opened the door behind him. They didn’t tear it from the hinges, and hadn’t pounded through it with brute strength. Rather, one had reached for the knob, turned it, and almost silently pulled it open.
Dirk, half on his feet and half carrying Jessie, threw an arm around the mother as he crossed the hall and shoved her into his room. He slammed the door and locked it behind him.
Again, there was no pounding.
“What...what...?” Mother couldn’t finish the question, but Dirk didn’t have any answer. Still carrying Jessie with one arm, he went to his bed. He shrugged the girl off and reached into his bag.
The room became very quiet, with only the wind howling against the windows.
“What are you doing?” the mother finally asked. When Dirk turned to face her, he had a semi-automatic in each hand.
“Get to the center of the room,” he said.
The creatures, whatever they were, hadn’t tried to force their way through the door. He didn’t know what they’d do, or where they’d come from. The ceiling seemed a likely choice; it had been higher and unfinished across the hall. They might crawl over and drop in through the cheap, white tiles. Or they might, with a singular effort, smash their way through the door.
It was possible that the creatures might just go away. Dirk doubted it. So he listened to every sound, watched every corner and shadow through the corners of his eyes, and held his fingers tight on the triggers.
The girl sniffed. Once. Otherwise, he heard nothing except his unsteady breaths.
“I’m not happy about this,” the mother was saying. “Not happy at all.”
“We have to get out of here,” Dirk said, not turning his attention away from the door. “Get my keys.”
“What about our bags? Our car?”
“You want to go back and get them?” Dirk asked. When she didn’t answer, he added, “We’re going through the window, straight to my truck, and snow or no snow we’re getting the hell out of here.”
Jessie sniffed again, but otherwise made no noise. He was so glad she wasn’t crying; he didn’t know how to handle something like that. His jobs were usually solo gigs, involving no one and nothing else, and he’d never had to protect anyone before.
He didn’t have to protect this woman and her daughter, either. But he did. There was an obligation there that went beyond the stereotypes of “Me man, you damsel in distress.” It was because he had the guns. He was trained. But mostly because it gave him a goal just a little bigger than getting out of here alive. Made him feel important. Like he mattered.
“Where are they?” the mother asked, rifling through his bag and the other weapons.
“My coat,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
He looked just in time. The window smashed in as one of the creatures leapt through it, claws extended on all four limbs and teeth bared. Jessie screamed but she didn’t distract him. Turning, Dirk fired with both guns. Both bullets hit their target, tearing through the creature’s chest and spraying blood and tissue behind it. The thing folded in midair, tumbled across the bed, and landed on the mother.
“Fuck!” she cried. “Fuck Fuck Fuck!” She screamed, swirling her arms, spasms rocking her body as if she suddenly realized a spider crawled down the back of her shirt. Its guts spilled over her, but the thing was dead; its limbs hung loosely, and it only moved when she did. But underneath it, she must’ve thought it was alive.
Dropping one gun on the bed, he shoved the creature aside. “It’s dead,” he told her.
Snow swirled into the room. This side of the motel faced the woods; the road and parking lot were just a few rooms down to the right. The wall of white falling from the sky made it impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the first trees, if that far. His truck wouldn’t be visible until they’d covered half the distance at least.
He retrieved his gun, now aiming one toward the window and one toward the door, and said, “We’ve got to run now.”
“Wait.” The mother pulled the keys out of his coat pocket. “I’m not going anywhere with a stranger.” She looked pathetic, strands of creature flesh clinging to her hair.
“We hafta,” Jessie pleaded.
“What she said,” Dirk said. “Name’s Dirk. That’s good enough for now.”
“Diane.”
“Fine,” he said, inching toward the windows. “Get out there. Now.”
Diane carried her daughter through the window, already shivering and red because of the cold. None of them were dressed for the weather. They didn’t have time.
He backed to the window, keeping most of his attention on the door. Had he been organizing the attack, he would have sent in three or four of the creatures through the door at the sound of breaking glass, but there were none.
No, there were more. He knew it. He just didn’t know how many, or where they hid, and now he doubted they had any strategy at all.
As one, Diane and Jessie screamed. Dirk had reached the window, and easily saw what they saw. In the woods, not too distant, were three sets of eyes. Four. Maybe five. Blinking but unmoving. Shit, they were everywhere. Did he have enough ammo?
“Close to the wall,” Dirk told the girls. “Straight toward the parking lot. Don’t look at them. Don’t even think about them. Pretend they’re not there.”
“Fuck you,” Diane said.
“I’m trying to convince me,” he snapped. Dirk swung one leg over the edge of the window. Another creature dropped down on him from the roof.
He shifted at the last moment, catching sight of it (despite the white on white) in his peripheral vision. Still, one clawed hand ripped through his shoulder. Dirk pulled back, firing point blank at the back of the creature’s skull.
The others attacked from the woods.
They were fast. Too fast. His torn arm came up slowly, somehow still gripping the 9mm. He fired repeatedly with the other; all the creatures were coming at him now, ignoring the women.
Somehow, he managed to put down each creature before it reached him, though one got near enough that when it fell—momentum pushing it toward him despite the gunshot—it crashed heavily into his legs.
He glanced back into the room as he started to follow Diane and Jessie; creatures were pouring into it from the hall and crashing through the ceiling, perhaps a dozen in all.
He ran.
Diane threw her daughter into the front seat of the truck and, glancing back only a moment, followed. The ignition growled but started right up. The brake lights flashed a moment, and then dimmed; she wasn’t planning to wait for him.
Dirk dove for the bed of his truck, catching it just in time. The truck slid sideways when Diane turned the wheel too sharply, and then they were on the road, snow as relentless as earlier.
Peering over the back of the truck, Dirk watched what looked like an army of those white furred creatures loping after them, some almost quick enough to catch up. Diane pushed the pickup as fast as it might go, which was probably too fast for her on this slick road, but he wasn’t about to slow her down.
Later, they’d have a little talk about her trying to steal his truck. Maternal instinct, he reminded himself; she wanted to get her daughter to safety. Was that enough of an excuse to forgive her? Well, she was cute. He had a weakness for cute.
The distance between truck and creatures grew, and Dirk allowed himself to relax.
The truck stopped suddenly, smashing into something with a cacophony of grinding metal and shattering glass. The rear end of the truck jumped; Dirk flew forward, over the cab. He hit the edge of the crumpled hood on the way down—it was wrapped around a tree—thumped on the ground and slid through the snow. He heard screaming, but saw nothing until he stopped.
Despite the pain that wracked the entire left side of his body, he saw what had caused the accident: creatures, dozens of them, several deep across the road. Rather than barrel through the mass, Diane had tried to swerve around them. She was still in the truck, head bleeding, bits of windshield hanging in front of her. She appeared to be unconscious. The girl, Jessie, had been ejected. One of the creatures picked her up like a fireman carrying a victim from a burning tower, like a demented hero saving the child from harm.